Okay, this is the beginning of all the Cascio Italian adventures you have been waiting patiently to read about. We FINALLY got internet at our house, after an agonizing and excruciating 3 months of paying way too much for our Italian SIM card data plans. Well, actually, we will still have to do that, until we get a soggiorno (sah-jorn-oh) (permit of stay), which will probably be sometime mid-May on the Italian timetable of things. That's another rant for another post, though.
So, today, before we got our magical modem delivered, I wanted to try and get one task checked off our list. (I say *try* for everything now, it's much more accurate.) Registering "sniffy" for preschool.
However, it was pouring rain. Not like little wispy sprinkles that we got in California, but full-on, flooding the sidewalks, relentless, rain. And Jeff drove the only working car to work today, because the volvo seems to be a little temperamental. Anyway, I wasn't going to let a little rain stop me! I told Isaac we were going on an adventure, and started layering on 4 layers of athletic gear (which is the warmest thing I've got right now). It's pretty cold here, and the rain certainly kicks that up a notch.
So, after gearing up, we don our umbrellas (mandatory that each family have like 25 umbrellas - they sell them EVERYWHERE!), and set off for what I thought was going to be a short walk about a quarter mile down the street to the preschool. Well, everything is going good until the first 10 puddles, and I'm soaked from my knees down! Isaac is not phased, and thinks this is fun. Good. I've got something working in my favor. We get to the school, figure out how to buzz the office (Gates everywhere here - another Italian thing) and they let us in. We add our two umbrellas to the line of 100 lined up in the hallway and venture inside. The segretaria (secretary) is very nice, but of course, does not speak English, so I ask her in my broken English-Italian if I can register here for preschool. She tells me a few sentences in Italian (which are equivalent to paragraphs in English, because the words are multi-syllabled), and I figure out that I am not in the right place. *Note: yes, I could have called, but my phone-Italian is much worse!). I ask her to write down the address (Scrivilo l'indrizzo) and she writes and talks and motions with her hands, and writes some more. I'm trying to make sure I understand what she wrote, so I'm trying to put the address into my GPS on my phone at the same time telling her I'm understanding what she is saying and thanking the Lord I just studied directions in my italian-language app.
Our new destination is 1.2 miles from where we were at the moment. I have a decision to make, here, people, and I choose to trudge on, because Isaac seems content with the umbrella-power and his spiderman hat and gloves. So we continue to walk, and it continues to rain, and the puddles are huge, more like ponds really, and I'm trying to keep a positive "adventure" attitude going. (Meanwhile, I have birth certificates, our lease, our codice fiscale cards, passports, visas, and every other form of ID in my bag right now, in case any of that is required. I'm trying to keep this all dry.) 5 minutes and 27 puddles later, Isaac is now tired and complaining that his feet hurt. My feet are soaked, and I'm not sure we are walking in the right direction. I keep him moving forward by telling him it's not much further, and he gets distracted by the huge leaves on the ground. 4 minutes later, he trips on one of those leaves, and falls on top on his umbrella, breaking nearly every spine in it. It kind of works, so we keep using it. 17 minutes later (oh yes, I was watching the time!) I saw the "Posta" which the secretary mentioned, so I know I'm close! I see a big school across the street, and I think that must be it. (When in Italy, never trust your first guess. It's usually wrong. Honestly.) I was wrong. A lady who was surprised to see us (in what could have been a High School back hallway - I'm guessing here) told me that this was not the place. (Everyone in the story does NOT speak English, ok?) I *think* she told me it was right around the corner, so we take our one umbrella and set out around the corner.
I enter another place which looks like it *could* be the right place, but once again, no one speaks English (I ask) but they tell me to go across the street. So, we set off for what I hope is our last stop of our rainy journey, and this looks promising! It's a primary school - and there is someone there that speaks English! She tells me this is the place, and just go wait at the window over there. So I do, and then 5 minutes later, she tells me, "Oh, I forgot, they are only open for registration during these hours" and points to a paper posted there. She kind of shrugs and says, "Well, you can come back tomorrow morning!" And I die inside. I tell her I've walked here for almost 2 miles, in the rain, with a 4-yr old. No response. This patience that I prayed for has definitely reached it's peak, because I'm totally cool with this now. Irritated, yes. Soaking wet, yes. But mad? No. Amazingly. Isaac and I start on our quest back home. Only 132 puddles to go.
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